


and what of it?

by newmoons



Category: The Twilight Saga, Twilight, Twilight (Movies), Twilight Saga, Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/F, Lesbian Twilight, lgbt twilight saga, queer twilight saga, wlw, wlw twilight saga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 17:43:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16497248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newmoons/pseuds/newmoons
Summary: paris sat alive but distant outside their window, glowing lights nothing but a blur as pleasure bared down on their unparalleled senses...





	and what of it?

“you don’t look decent,” alice said, lounging on their large canopy bed, flipping through a magazine idly as rosalie stood.

the blonde wore a red silk nightgown, contrasting with her alabaster skin and accentuating each and every one of the curves alice could have drooled for.

“and what of it?” rosalie asked, smirking with a playful hint to her stare. alice simply smiled in return, dropping the magazine to her right before bounding up from the bed to flutter to rosalie’s side.

“don’t think it anything,” alice whispered, “it won’t be on for long.”

and as she ran her hands through golden hair, she saw it pass before them; a vision that was tangible, that was right beneath their fingertips.

her head tossed back in ecstasy, those stained red lips marking the stretch of skin that travelled over her hip bones, collar bones, jawline. the whisper of sinful words drenched in the beauty of another century playing in her ears like broken records.

rosalie, she gasped; rosalie, she begged; rosalie, she pardoned.

paris sat alive but distant outside their window, glowing lights nothing but a blur as pleasure bared down on their unparalleled senses, her body begging for a release it could not reasonably sustain.

her eyesight blurred— was this a vision or reality?— and she shuddered. rosalie’s lips trailed lazily down her throat; she wouldn’t care if the blonde ended her there. it would be to die the death of love.

“alice,” she whispered, and something dormant in her twisted in her stomach, and her chest would have pounded if her nature proved it possible.

“alice, come for me,” she demanded, and the hardness, the low just of rosalie’s voice, pooled in her. something that demanded an answer, a resolution, a climax.

she could not hold back. her back arched and she swore, heavenly prayers falling like sin from parted lips. she trembled, the ancestors of tears filling at the corner of her eyes, impossible that they fall.

“rose,” she cried, “rose, rose,” and her legs, thrown carelessly over those broad shoulders and defined collarbones, tightened with lust, with satisfied elation, with adoration of a move made.

“rose,” she gasped, and her eyes fluttered shut, for once the future nothing but a calm buzz in the back of her mind, a soft blanket thrown to her senses and masqueraded by a firework of pleasure.

“rose,” she whispered, and the delicate need of comfort that was not custom to their nature fell upon her. she longer for those hands that could destroy her to rest upon her face, for those arms that had held her, shaking, to envelope her in a gentle hold.

and then they were, and she was held tight to rosalie’s chest, her lips pressed to the pixie’s forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, down to her lips, where they kissed the corner and fluttered her heart once more.

alice sighed into the embrace, some comfort taken by this embrace, the vulnerability that could open a chest like a field in winter, so abundantly ravaged by cold wind, merely warmed by the shining and blazing iridescence that was rosalie lillian brandon-hale.

“rose,” she whispered, and tentative fingers pressed to her arms, running down their length, their legs intertwined.

“i love you,” she said, and rosalie replied, “i know,” and, “i love you too.”


End file.
